Adorable
by antilogicgirl
Summary: Conrad's out on business, Gwendel's stressed, Wolfram's sick, Gunter is clingy, and Yuuri is caught in the middle of it all. If only he could stop blushing! High fluff content, Shounenai.
1. Chapter 1: Tension Tamer

**Title: **"Adorable"

**Series: **Kyou Kara Maou

**Author: **antilogicgirl

* * *

**A/N:** Here's something new! I'm writing something that is NOT a Naruto fanfiction! Oh, I know I've done Saiyuki and Bleach, but that's one story each! I'm trying to branch out, people. So. Here's my excuse for making Shibuya Yuuri blush to his ears...on several occasions. I think that he blushes three times in chapter 1 alone. But, I think that he'll make others blush later on! There should be...five chapters, I think. Don't quote me. It's a minor plot bunny, but there's MAJOR fluff! At least I think so. Oh, and yes, in case anyone is wondering, I am a complete Gwendel fan, so I had to put a scene in where he gets in the bath. The inner fangirl squeals at the tall, dark, handsome and quiet man. Oh, yes, she does.

**Legal Stuffiness: **I do not own Kyou Kara Maou, or any of the characters therein. Tomo Takabayashi, owner.

* * *

**Chapter 1: **Tension Tamer

Gwendel groaned. The sun was falling fast toward the horizon, casting long shadows in the room, and lending an orange glow to everything else. It had been a very long day. If he was not playing referee between his brother and His Majesty, he had been going through countless papers. And then there was that terrifying half hour right around lunch time when he had been forced to flee for his own sanity as Anissina arrived with yet another of her machines for him to test. He groaned again. It was days like this that made him wish for a simpler, quieter life.

The door swung open, banging against the wall, and he looked up to see the absolute last person he felt like talking to, or even seeing. "Von Voltaire…" There was a hard edge to Günter's voice and a deep crease between his eyebrows. "Did I not ask you to take care of Gretta?" Gwendel looked down at his papers again, the better to conceal the fact that he rolled his eyes at the man. "She was halfway to Shinou's temple when His Majesty and I finally found her." Taking up his pen again, he chose to ignore the advisor. Perhaps, if he kept up his act long enough, Günter would get the idea, and leave him be?

Günter's slender hands slammed down on his desk. So much for that theory. Dropping his writing instrument, Gwendel levered himself up out of his seat, leaning heavily on his hands, and getting very close to Günter's face. "Von Kleist," he growled, "I am a general, _not_ a babysitter. Gretta is the responsibility of her father, his fiancé, and the maids." His blue eyes glared hotly into cool lavender. "If you would like to take over my duties for a time, perhaps I might be able to fit that into my schedule."

Günter's mouth fell open. "I cannot believe you are so heartless, Gwendel."

"Heartless?" He asked, his brow furrowing. "I am no more heartless than you. But today, I have no patience. It was my fear, which is apparently justified, that if I were to be bothered that I would become rather…cross with the intruder. Would you prefer me to show Gretta _that_ side of my personality?" Those pale violet eyes widened before Günter shook his head in the negative. "I did not think so. Therefore, I asked her to find me a green butterfly."

At that, Günter's eyebrows rose. He knew as well as Gwendel, or anyone else in Blood Pledge Castle, that if you gave the girl a task, she would see it through. She was much like her adopted father in that respect. That was why he had given her such a difficult task. The only green butterflies within a fifty-kilometer radius were in the next town to the west. And it was highly unlikely that Gretta would go that far. He sighed. "Are you _quite_ finished, Günter?"

"Yes, Gwendel. However, in the future, please tell me or His Majesty before sending her off like that." Günter straightened, and gave a short bow. "Good evening, Gwendel." His long hair swayed as he made for the door, and as always, it was the last part of him to leave the room. A sudden itch on his palms brought his attention back to the present, from where it had been meditating on how pretty Günter's hair was, and how he was only a tiny bit envious of how it shone in the afternoon sun. That was rather annoying, actually.

In reality, there were far _too many_ things that were annoying him of late. Whether it be Günter, Dorcas's idiocy, Anissina's machines, or his paperwork, Gwendel's entire body seemed to ache by the end of the day, simply from the amount of tension pouring into him. For probably the hundredth time, he let out a groan. Bending his head to one side, then the other, he decided that the soreness in his neck was probably the worst from bending over all of these blasted papers.

He shoved himself away from the desk, his exasperation too great to continue any form of work. Dinner would be two hours after sunset, and he had best get himself relaxed enough to avoid any kind of confrontation. Conrad was not in the castle at present, and while he was usually the peacekeeper, Gwendel was drafted to take his place in his absence. This was not a position that he relished. Wolfram was constantly nagging at His Majesty, and if he heard Yuuri yell, "Don't call me a wimp!" one more time, he was going to take drastic action.

He walked out of his study, closing the door firmly behind him, and turning right to go to his personal quarters. If he was going to have to play interference between them, handle Günter's hen pecking, and his mother's constant questions about why he didn't have a wife yet…a pain suddenly developed in his shoulder, and Gwnedel winced. Perhaps a long soak in his private bath would not go amiss? He was a bit more tense than usual, of late. Nodding to himself, he thought that might be exactly what he needed.

* * *

Yuuri breathed in deeply. The early evening air was very crisp, and he inhaled the scent of flowers, grass, and dirt. The gardens had been his favorite place for some time, now. There was one near the front of the castle that he frequented more than any of the others, filled with beautiful blue flowers, which he now knew were named for Conrad. Smiling to himself, he looked at these flowers. They were a beautiful blue. There were few things that were that precise shade of blue, and he began to list them. The first thing that came to mind was Wolfram's uniform. Yes, that was certainly about the right color.

Next, he thought of how the sky had been earlier that day. It was actually really beautiful. And finally, he remembered…Gwendel's eyes were blue. Sometimes, he forgot that. The man's hair covered his eyes much of the time, and it was hard to know what he was thinking. Not that Yuuri was very good at reading him when he _could_ see them. It was just very difficult to understand Gwendel at times.

He was probably the most physically tough man Yuuri knew, and his mental fortitude was amazing, as well. That was evident in that Gwendel had not yet succumbed to madness after so many years of dealing with and indulging Anissina's more _inventive_ nature. Then, there was the knitting. Really, Gwendel knitted, crocheted, and dabbled in sewing. Yuuri smiled slightly, remembering the hats he and Wolfram had gotten from him. After a moment of remembering how ridiculous the blonde man had looked, he began to chuckle to himself. He didn't get to laugh at Wolfram very often, since his fiancé was always so proper and dignified, so this was a real treat.

The sound of horse's hooves rang out suddenly, and in through the main gates flew a gray horse, with Dorcas riding it into the ground. Yuuri's eyes widened. What was the matter? Dorcas loved the horses, so he would never treat one like that unless it was something urgent. That being the case, Yuuri ran forward as the horse skidded to a stop. "What is it, Dorcas?"

"Your Majesty! I have an urgent message from Yozak and Commander Weller!" The man handed the letter to Yuuri, and was dismissed. Yuuri watched him go, all the while apologizing to the horse, who looked almost ready to keel over.

"Poor Dorcas…" The expression on that man's face made it seem as if he were constantly put upon, and Yuuri couldn't help but feel for him. Then, he suddenly remembered the letter. Quickly opening it, he scanned the contents, and his eyes widened painfully. "No…" He had to find Gwendel. Of all people, Gwendel would understand this problem, and know what to do.

* * *

Letting out a long breath, Gwendel leaned back. His private bath was (compared to the massive ones that were reserved for His Majesty) a small affair. It would not fit more than five people in it comfortably. It was perfect for when he wanted to be alone. No one was brave enough to bother him while he was soaking away the day's troubles. So, he pulled the leather tie out of his hair and let the blue-black stuff fall down the side of the tub. Tilting his head back, he rested it on the edge of the bath, a contented smile pulling at his lips.

The knots in his muscles slowly began to loosen from the heat of the water, and Gwendel breathed in the steam. Yes, this had been what he needed all along. Hot water, steam, and no one rushing about to bothe—

"Gwendel!" The door flew open, His Majesty entering and looking quite distressed. Had he been in a less relaxed state, the bathing man would have jumped.

Instead, he only turned his head, lazily regarding his ruler. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

* * *

It took Yuuri a moment to realize that he had barged in on Gwendel's bath. And then it was another few seconds before he realized that the general was actually relaxed. He was _lounging_. His hair was hanging over the side of the marble tub, long bangs pushed away from a strong, tanned face. The light coming in through the windows cast thick shadows over the wet planes of muscle that made up his chest, and caught the very edge of one of Gwendel's blue eyes, making it look like it glowed. Overall, it was a sight that would put anyone in awe. But at the moment, it was the tiny smile that Gwendel had that threw him off balance.

"I…um…there's been…" a deep flush crossed his face, and he had to look away from Gwendel's face. He instead fixed his eyes onto a spot on the far wall. Clearing his throat, he said, "There's been some t-trouble with Great Shimaron again." Water swished, drawing his attention back to the man in the bath. Gwendel had now sat up, his hair falling into the water and clinging wetly to his chest and shoulders.

His eyes were keen, piercing. "What is the situation?" Yuuri stammered, unable to get any words out. After a long moment, Gwendel sighed. "Please, sit," he said, gesturing to a nearby chair. Once he was comfortable, Gwendel rested his arms on the edge of the tub, leaning his chin on his forearm. "Now, what is this trouble?"

It was difficult. Certainly, Gwndel was ill? How could this laid-back and completely relaxed person be the same man who was as stiff as an oak tree, even at dinner? His face heated up once again, but he did his best to speak calmly and plainly. "Belal has apparently been harassing some of the neighboring kingdoms, and has sent a small force and kidnapped Antoine's friend, Leila." One of Gwendel's dark eyebrows rose. "Conrad sends an urgent request that reinforcements be dispatched to give chase."

"And you? What do _you_ say, Your Majesty?" Gwendel toyed with a sponge, water running down his arm.

"I…" Yuuri bit his lip. "I don't think it is necessary to send troops."

"Hm." Gwendel hummed before he turned away for a moment to dunk himself in the steamy water. When he surfaced again, Yuuri found that he couldn't really keep himself from looking at how the fading light ran over the darkened hair sticking to the general's shoulders. He swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture back into his mouth. "Well, Your Majesty," the man said quietly, "it is good that you came to speak to me."

"How's that?"

Gwendel's head turned, and he looked at Yuuri from the corner of his eye. "If you had asked Günter, he would be panicking right now, wouldn't he?"

Yuuri smiled. He had a point. "Yes, he would be."

"And Wolfram would be grabbing his things to go over there himself." Gwendel gathered his hair over one shoulder, squeezing water out of it. Yuuri nodded dumbly, trying not to stare. Gwendels' voice continued, but he didn't really hear it. The low, rumbling tone was lulling, and the pinkish light of sunset made wet skin glow, causing him to get the impression that he was talking to a very stern angel.

* * *

This could be a potentially serious situation. Belal must think they were getting sloppy. It was good, indeed that Yuuri had come to him first. The others would overreact, and certainly rush headlong into a trap. So, he would have to keep things together by sheer force of will, as he had many times before. He told His Majesty that it would be best to discuss these things when they met for dinner. The boy did not respond. Turning his head a bit more, he saw that Yuuri's face had darkened slightly in a blush, and a kind of far away look had settled in his eyes.

It took a lot for him not to smile. There were some things that were far too adorable, and he had a weakness for cute things. He was fairly certain that his ruler did not hear a word he was saying, what with the way he was staring. "Your Majesty?" Yuuri did not make any indication that he heard. Now, things were getting a little awkward. He cleared his throat sharply. "Your Majesty," he said a bit more forcefully, and dark eyes blinked rapidly for a moment before fixing on him in a more focused gaze, "I will be to dinner shortly. If you please?"

"Y…Yes…pardon my intrusion…" Yuuri stammered, his face consumed in bright red. In an instant, Gwendel was alone once more. He smiled to himself. If nothing else, His Majesty was entertaining.

* * *

**A/N:** Hehe. Very blushy. Then again, had it been me, I'd have been so flustered that I would have had to face the other way just to talk to him. And I STILL would have blushed. 


	2. Chapter 2: Delirious

Title: "Adorable"

Series: Kyou Kara Maou

Author: antilogicgirl

Chapter 2: Delirious

"A…A…Achoo!" Wolfram's sneeze echoed throughout the dining room. He leaned on his hand, groaning. Yuuri glanced at him, a worried look crossing his features. He hadn't seen the blonde man for most of the day, but when he had, Wolfram was trying very hard not to sneeze and cough. He also had that slightly pinkish tinge that one gets when they were sick with a fever. After Wolfram coughed a few times into his napkin, Yuuri lay down his cutlery.

Placing a hand on Wolfram's forehead, Yuuri felt the heat coming off of him. "You're sick, Wolfram."

The other boy slapped his hand away. "I am not! Only wimps like you get sick!"

While he would normally bristle with anger at the insult, Yuuri smiled softly. "Wolfram…please, why don't you go to bed, and I'll come and check on you in a little while?" He received a hateful glare for his concern. Yuuri's mouth set in a hard line, and he pushed himself away from the table. Looking to Gwendel and Günter, he said, "Please excuse me. I will be back in a few minutes." With that, he took hold of Wolfram's wrist and started pulling. There was a pitiful amount of resistance, which only served to further his theory of sickness.

"Let go of me, you wimpy Maou!" Wolfram's eyes were becoming wild now, and with the way he was thrashing about, Yuuri was starting to get really worried. If this kept up, Wolfram was going to hurt himself.

They got out into the hall, and he sighed, continuing for another few steps before becoming completely exasperated and shoving his fiancé against the wall. Green eyes went wide as he pressed his face close. "Stop it." Yuuri hated getting aggressive with him, because he would always lose. But he could hope that he would be able to overpower him in this weakened state.

Wolfram's face suddenly became rather pink. "Y-Yuuri?"

"You aren't feeling well, are you, Wolfram?" He asked gently, though trying to be as firm as possible.

"I told you, I'm not sick!"

Planting his hands on either side of Wolfram's head, Yuuri raised one eyebrow. "And that is a complete lie." The other boy looked away, the flush on his cheeks deepening. "It is time for you to go to bed." He felt a bit like his mother with the way he was forcing this on Wolfram, but it was for his own good. "Come on, Wolfram," he took the blonde's hand, "If you like, you can sleep in my room until you feel better. That way, I can take care of you." Now he _really_ sounded like his mother. Nearly groaning at that, he was actually surprised that his fiancé followed him without any further fighting. Well, placating sick people always worked out better than trying to fight them…

Coughs echoed through the halls as they went, and Yuuri shook his head. Finally, it appeared as if Wolfram would admit he was ill. When they got to his bedroom, he went to the small chest where those ridiculous pink nightgowns Wolfram wore were kept. Pulling one out, he took it over to where the sick blonde sat on the edge of the bed. Slender fingers fumbled ineffectually at the buttons on his uniform, and it was obvious that Wolfram was starting to get annoyed. Yuuri could see it in the little downward turn at the corners of his lips, and the growl that started at the back of his throat. He pushed forward, swiftly opening the coat that had been giving Wolfram such trouble. Once he had pulled it off, he laid it aside and took off the pins holding the neck cloth in place.

"I'm not sick…" Wolfram said under his breath, his head falling forward limply.

Yuuri nodded, chuckling. "Okay. You aren't sick, Wolfram. You're just really tired, yeah?" The mumbled response sounded something like a 'yes', but Yuuri couldn't be sure. He pulled the shirt out of Wolfram's pants, then unbuttoned it and took it off, putting it aside with the coat. There was a light sheen of sweat over his skin, and Yuuri bit his lip. How long had he been pretending not to be sick? Hurriedly, he removed shoes, socks, and pants, and then slipped the nightgown over Wolfram's head. "Better?"

Wolfram smiled dazedly as he stuck his arms through the sleeves. "Mm…much better. I'm comfy." Yuuri held back a smile as he pushed the delirious boy onto the pillows and covered him up to his chest with the blankets. "You come to bed too…Yuuri." A weak hand grasped his coat sleeve, pulling at him when he tried to stand.

"I can't." He said quietly, gently pulling Wolfram's hand from his arm and laying it back on the covers. "I have to speak with Gwendel and Günter for a little while. Then, I'll come and make sure you're all right." The pout that formed on Wolfram's lips made him worry. He was acting like a five-year-old. It was like the fever was taking over his mind, reverting him to a state of childlike innocence.

"Please, Yuuri? I can't sleep…if you're not here." Yuuri's eyes went wide, and he stood suddenly, not knowing what to make of that. He stammered his excuses again, and left the room.

"That was awkward." He breathed, leaning against the wall.

"What was?" Yuuri jumped at the deep voice that came from a bit down the hall. When he turned, he found Gwendel walking toward him. Shaking himself a bit, he explained about the boy's delirium. "Ah," was all the older man said on the matter. "Well, Your Majesty, what do you think? How many people should we send to get Antoine's assistant back?"

For a long moment, Yuuri thought. They couldn't go sending a large number of troops. That would spook the kidnappers, and they might do something drastic. "A small unit…about ten men. Send them to Conrad's current location and give instructions that infiltration would be a better idea than outright conflict."

Gwendel's eyes widened fractionally, but he seemed pleased with this response. Giving a small bow, he said, "Very well, Your Majesty. Perhaps you should return to your patient?" Was it just him, or was Gwendel mocking him? The tiny smile curving the man's lips told him that yes, that was precisely what he was doing. Apparently, Gwendel's sense of humor was that kind. Yuuri nodded, a wry smile on his face.

"Good night, Gwendel."

"As well to you, Your Majesty." Gwendel continued down the hall, brushing past him. Yuuri wondered momentarily what was so very funny about him taking care of someone that was sick. Then again, it was slightly funny that Wolfram looked so adorable when he pouted. Sighing, he went back into the room.

Wolfram was propped up on the pillows, his eyes watching the door. Had he really been waiting? That question was answered when those big green eyes seemed to light up from inside. "You're back…" he said, a cheerful smile coming to his lips, "…you need to come to bed, Yuuri." Yuuri laughed a little. It was actually rather strange, seeing Wolfram like this.

"I need to put on my pajamas," he mumbled, walking behind the dressing screen in the corner. It was turning out to be a very odd day indeed. He had been having quite a few of those, as of late. Once he had dressed for bed, he stepped out into the room. Wolfram was still awake. It was amazing how strong the boy was. If he set his mind on something, there was nothing short of a direct order that would get him to stop. But in his current state, Yuuri didn't think even that would keep him from his objective, which was making sure that Yuuri slept where he could reach him.

After extinguishing all of the candles, Yuuri slipped into the bed. Immediately, Wolfram latched onto his arm, pulling him as close as he could. Mortified, he tried to shift away. "No…stay right there." In the dim light coming through the windows, he could see the dark green of Wolfram's eyes, fixed on his face as if frightened that Yuuri would disappear. It was…endearing, really. If he didn't know that the other boy was sick, he would assume that he'd lost his mind.

In the current state of things, he decided that it would be best if he humored his fiancé. Putting one hand on a pink-clad shoulder, he said, "Sleep now, Wolfram. You'll feel better in the morning." Yuuri then felt hair tickling his cheek as Wolfram buried his head beneath his chin, snuggling into his chest.

--

When Wolfram woke in the early morning, he found himself warm and content. His memory of the previous night was less than perfect, but that was not uncommon. Sometimes he just worked himself too hard, or he got so annoyed that he blocked things out so that he could deal with his complete wimpy dope of a fiancé. Honestly, you would think that after so long living here, he would have toughened up_ a little_.

Not wanting to move from where he was burrowed into covers and pillows, he snuggled deeper into the pillow he lay on, making a small sound of happiness. It was not often that he simply lay around. Most days, he rose at dawn, washed and dressed, then went to kick Yuuri out of bed. As he should. Besides, he didn't want Günter in there so early. That old man looked at Yuuri in ways that he shouldn't.

His thoughts were interrupted when the bed began shifting under him, and something touched his back. After he froze for an instant, Wolfram realized that it was a hand. That hand was attached to an arm, and that arm to a chest, which was what he had just snuggled into. The hand moved from between his shoulder blades up to stroke his hair. It was strange, but he felt very…safe when that hand touched him. Opening his eyes lazily, he tilted his head back, finding himself staring at…

"Yuuri!" Black eyes blinked slowly down at him, and the young Maou smiled.

"Good morning, Wolfram." Alarm rising in his chest, he scrabbled back across the bed until his back connected with the solid wood of one of the bedposts. Glancing around caused his anxiety to grow. He was in Yuuri's room. His fiancé sat up, confusion and worry evident on his face. "Are…are you all right, Wolfram?" The tone of his voice was concerned, and a little slow, like he was talking to a small child.

"Why am I in here? I stopped sleeping in your room months ago!" His hands clutched at the covers, and his mind swirled through all manner of possible horrors that could have occurred the previous night. Had he gotten drunk? Did Yuuri take advantage of his inebriated state? What kind of person did Yuuri think he was? Anger swelled in him as this line of reasoning became the primary chain of events that he fixed upon. There was no other way it could have happened.

Yuuri crawled across the bed, approaching him carefully. He lay a hand on Wolfram's forehead, and sighed in relief. "Your fever's gone." The smile that took over that awful look of concern and worry was bright, and almost radiant. If he wasn't certain that Yuuri was up to no good, he would have allowed that hand to stay where it was.

"Fever? Is _that_ what you call it?" He slapped the offending hand from his head, jumping off of the bed and grabbing the nearest weapon. Yuuri's smile faded into a mask of surprise when the king-sized pillow collided with the side of his head. "You wimp! Pervert! Lecher!"

"Huh?" Was the only word that came out of Yuuri's mouth as Wolfram pummeled him with the pillow over and over again with each word he yelled.

"Wimpy, wimpy Maou! Couldn't try while I was in my right mind, so you take advantage of me while I'm not? Pervert!" The pillow burst on that last word, and feathers flew, dumping the majority of them onto Yuuri. That was all right. There were plenty of pillows. He reached for another one, but found himself flying off of the bed, having taken a blow to the abdomen. Now, he was sprawled out on the floor, looking up at a _very _annoyed Yuuri.

"Wol—ppppftht!" Yuuri growled, trying to spit feathers out of his mouth. Shaking his head and the rest of him until he only had a few strays here and there, he raised one eyebrow at Wolfram. "Wolfram," his voice was deadly quiet, "do you think you can best me? I can beat _anyone_ in this kind of fight. Now. Either you stop right now and apologize, or I beat you to a fluffy pulp."

Fluffy pulp? Was there such a thing? And why should _he_ apologize? Yuuri was the one that took advantage of him. Wolfram's eyes narrowed. "I am not apologizing to a wimpy pervert."

"Pervert?" Yuuri asked dangerously, holding a pillow aloft. "Care to explain how my taking care of you while you're _sick_ and delirious, and not even giving you a kiss goodnight makes me a pervert?" That malevolent gleam shone in Yuuri's eyes, and he realized that the boy was telling the truth.

"You…" he said quietly, "…I was sick?"

Sighing, his fiancé dropped the pillow. Coming to a kneeling position before him, Yuuri said in an exasperated way, "Yes. Why else would I let you sleep in my bed?" Now, that comment made him feel a little dejected. So Yuuri didn't want him in the same bed? Unless he was sick? So that meant…

--

Yuuri watched as Wolfram digested the information he'd just provided. Something in the blonde's face, a small twinge, told him that tears were imminent. Not stopping to think of why, and probably influenced by how he'd taken care of Wolfram the night before, he put his arms around the other boy comfortingly. "Hey…it's okay. What's wrong?" The proverbial dam broke then, and Wolfram started crying in earnest, soaking the front of his pajamas. Now, he was at a loss as to how to deal with this particular form of Wolfram.

An angry Wolfram, an annoyed Wolfram, or even a delirious one…those were easy to handle. But a _crying_ Wolfram? No, he didn't know what to do. Slender hands took handfuls of his pajama shirt, pulling hard until he thought they would rip. "Wolfram…please…it's okay. Don't cry…" That only made him cry more. By the time he finally did stop, Yuuri was worried again, because his fever was back. Sighing, he shoved feathers off of the bed and put his fiancé back into the covers, putting pillows all around him the way he liked. Then, he went to dress for the day.

Unconscious and fevered, Wolfram was shivering by the time Yuuri came out from behind the screen. He hadn't even buttoned up his jacket yet, but he was actually contemplating going for Gisela. The boy on the bed was now fully in the grip of his fever again, his head slowly shaking from side to side, lips moving and spouting gibberish. After adding more blankets to the bed, he leaned down, feeling the scorching heat from the other's forehead. Something in his stomach lurched. "It's going to be fine, Wolfram. Sleep now. I'll go get Gisela. She'll know what to do."

As he left the room, his thoughts were interrupted by a painful, _I hope she will, anyway._


	3. Chapter 3: Panic Stricken

**ADVANCE WARNING: Shounen-ai, fluffy boys' love romance thing.**

**A/N:** Hello everyone. I am sorry for the long wait. This has taken me longer than expected, but I am quite close to finishing, I think. Anyway, you should like this chapter. It's pretty cute. Yuuri is _very_ worried about Wolfram, so he is trying to take care of him and get medicine. Hurray for Yuuri! 

**Legal Stuffiness:** I do not own Kyou Kara Maou or any of the characters therein. Tomo Takabayashi, owner.

* * *

**Adorable**

**Chapter 3:** Chapter 3: Panic Stricken

* * *

"What do you mean she's not here?!" Yuuri's voice rose to a near shout, and Günter flinched. He had never seen His Majesty this way. Running around the castle like a madman, his coat undone, hair sticking up in all directions and a wild look in his eyes, he was very unlike the Maou Günter had come to know. 

"Please, Your Majesty…if you will tell me what is wrong, perhaps I can help." He lay a hand gently on the boy's slim shoulder, and felt him shaking. Yuuri slumped under his hand.

For a long moment, the boy's dark head was bent, his shoulders shaking with agitation, then he spoke again. "Wolfram's very sick, Günter…and I think it's my fault!" He looked back up again, black eyes now brimming with tears that were certainly angry ones, and most likely directed at himself. Günter's heart broke just watching him. White clad arms encircled the young man, pulling him into a comforting embrace. "He…" Yuuri's voice trembled, "…he's burning up…he was fine before…but then…"

"Shhh. We'll find a way to cure his fever." Günter said as he rubbed soothing circles over Yuuri's back. When His Majesty looked up at him again, he did seem a bit calmer. After a few moments, Günter had to let him go. Some very…impertinent thoughts were crossing his mind, and it would not do for him to remain so close. He might get it into his head that it was all right to act on those ideas.

"We will?" the young king asked, adding a small sniffle at the end of the question that made him far more than adorable.

Günter nodded, smiling. "Gisela may not be here, but she taught me a thing or two about her healing herbs. There are a few kinds we can try to bring his fever down." The gratitude he saw in those black eyes was astounding. "Come quickly, now."

* * *

The path to the medicinal gardens was winding, and long. Yuuri fidgeted with his coat, which he had taken off. Günter walked so calmly in the face of a crisis that he was a little jealous. "Günter?" The taller man looked back over his left shoulder, violet eyes fixing him with a curious gaze. It was amazing how Günter could look at Yuuri and make him feel comfortable, but then there were times when he felt as if he were being examined. This was one of those times. "Shouldn't we go a bit faster?" Just as he said this, he tripped on a rock, falling forward.

Slender yet strong arms caught him. Günter laughed, and said, "No. I think this is a good pace." The implication, of course, was that he would fall flat on his face if they went any faster. Of course, his face went pink when he realized the position he was in—pressed against Günter's chest, with the taller man's arms around him—and quickly righted himself. When they finally arrived at the garden, which was sheltered among trees on the edge of the hill's slope, Günter moved among the rows of herbs, picking one or two leaves from several different types of plants, then pulling up something that looked like a green carrot.

Yuuri looked doubtfully at the handful of plant pieces. How was that supposed to make Wolfram better? But, he decided in the end to trust Günter, and followed the man back to the castle. Upon arriving, they proceeded directly to Günter's personal quarters. Yuuri was surprised to find that there was an immense, almost photo-realistic portrait of himself on the wall. Apparently, along with his accomplished studies, Yuuri's advisor was also a much better artist than Wolfram, whose work looked like a poor imitation of Picasso's paintings. There were, as well, many other oddments lying about. A globe sat next to a stack of history books taller than Günter was himself, and there were two small tables that held scrolls and papers that he was meant to review.

At a large table, there stood an immense mortar and pestle. Günter tossed the things he'd gotten from the garden into the mortar, then took the pestle in both hands. After grinding at the stuff for more than five minutes, he scooped out the resulting paste with a wooden spoon. "One teaspoon of this steeped in a cup of hot water once every four hours is what he needs. You'll have to make him drink." Once the odd grayish paste was placed in a waxed paper envelope, Yuuri thanked Günter before taking his leave.

Yuuri stopped, his hand on the door. Günter had taken hold of his shirtsleeve. The man's voice was low and strange near his ear. "If you need me for anything, Your Majesty, I will be here." As strange as Günter's voice had been, it became more so around the word 'anything', which made Yuuri's eyes widen. Why did that sound like an innuendo? Swallowing hard, he nodded and pulled the door open. No, it was only his imagination. It _had_ to be.

* * *

Yuuri hurried down the corridor, a large tray held in front of him. The maids had been highly alarmed at his wish to do this himself, but he had brooked no refusals. They provided him with the teapot, a spoon, a small bowl, napkins, and a kettle of hot water, but he had ordered them to stay well away from his chambers unless he specifically called for them. He had, more than once, seen them snooping around, and it was his general feeling that those women placed bets on his love life…or lack thereof.

Now, as he neared his room, he heard a strange sound. It was similar to the noise Morgif made when he was depressed. Confused, he pushed the door to the room inward. He started at what he saw. Pillows littered the floor again, and Wolfram was tangled in the sheets, his hair plastered to his forehead and nightgown soaked with sweat. He was moaning, and sounded as if he were in pain. "Good Lord…" Yuuri breathed, and immediately set the tray down on the nearest flat surface. When he neared the bed, he found that Wolfram looked paler than before. He made a choked sound, letting out the grief he felt at seeing his friend so ill.

Green eyes opened, looking dazed, and focused intently upon him. "Where…where did you go, Yuuri? I thought you were gone forever…" Tears began falling down Wolfram's pale cheeks, his eyes bright with the fever gripping his body. "I thought…I thought you were never…never going to come back!" Something in Yuuri's chest tightened. Seeing the usually stern young man crying this way was almost too much. As he straightened the pillows and bedcovers, his motions rather mechanical, weak hands grasped his coat sleeve the way a small child would. "Don't leave me," Wolfram's fever had worked him into a state of panic, his eyes wide and voice trembling even more than his hands were. "Please Yuuri. Don't leave me alone again."

An image flashed before his eyes…of Wolfram on that day when it had been certain he could never return. Was he remembering that day as well? Yuuri thought of how his insides had crushed in on themselves at the very thought of never seeing any of his friends again, of never being able to have a catch with Conrad…or try to sway Gwendel's opinion, fend off Günter's affection…or laugh at Yozak's cross-dressing tendencies. And then, there was the fact that he would never see Wolfram. But that memory was brutally pushed aside, and he shoved it as far away into the back of his mind as he possibly could.

A sudden knife of sadness twisted in his heart and tears pricked at the corners of Yuuri's eyes, but he blinked them away. Wolfram's fever was talking. This was not anything that the blond man would ever say if he were lucid, and he allowed himself to hold onto that thought while he propped Wolfram up on the pillows again and repeatedly pried those grasping hands away from his arms. Yuuri told himself that no, any feelings that Cecile Von Spitzburg's youngest son had would always be tempered by the disgust he felt for Yuuri's softer nature. Breathing deeply, he staved off his own sadness and confusion as he prepared the tea the way Günter had instructed. His silence was apparently unnerving his patient, for Wolfram continued to talk, asking questions and rattling on about how he did not want to be left alone.

"Please say something Yuuri…you're angry with me, aren't you?" A pitiful sound came from Wolfram's throat as he reached for the front of Yuuri's coat, fingers digging into the dark fabric desperately. His voice came softly now, almost a whisper. "Don't be angry. I didn't mean those things. I never mean them. Please don't be angry…" Again, he began to cry, quiet sobs escaping him as he begged over and over again for Yuuri not to be angry with him for what he had said earlier. Finally, Yuuri could no longer stand it. He sat on the edge of the bed and took the other boy in his arms, holding him close. His hands stroked sweat-damp hair, and ran down a trembling back, doing everything they could to sooth the hysterical young man.

It was not long before he found himself speaking. "I'm not angry, Wolfram. Please…don't cry." The shaking of the shoulders he held lessened somewhat, but continued. "I promise, I'm not angry. Why would I be? I know that you never mean all of the cross things you say." Now, the boy cried harder. Yuuri was becoming more and more alarmed. Finally, he grasped slender shoulders, covered by a sodden pink nightgown and gave him a gentle shake, his voice taking on a tone of almost desperate command. "Wolfram…Wolfram, stop. I can't stand it when you cry!"

Startled and sniffling, Wolfram's large, watery green eyes looked up at him and he breathed pitifully, "Why?"

Why indeed? 

"Because…" Yuuri began to say something, but whatever lie he had been meaning to start died on his tongue at the sight of Wolfram's tear-stained face. "Because it frightens me." That was true. Seeing someone suffer like this always made him scared. But this fear was different, he thought, even if he did not really understand it. "I promise I'm not angry, Wolfram. Just please don't cry, okay?" A nod from his patient made him smile. In turn, a smile that was no less than radiant came over Wolfram's face, and he was once again struck by how childlike it made him seem. "I have some medicine for your fever. It's in the teapot. You have to drink it all, or you won't get better."

Wolfram's nose wrinkled at the mention of medicine, and Yuuri found himself tempted to laugh. "Will you stay with me?" the delirious young man asked, his eyes watching Yuuri's face hopefully. 

"Yes, I will. And I have ordered that there be no disturbances, so I won't have to leave but to get more water for your next dose of medicine." That seemed to make Wolfram very happy indeed, and it was all Yuuri could do not to simply hug him. Those eyes were having a strange effect on him, making him feel warmer than he was. It was no use to wear his coat now, so he took it off and threw it over the back of a chair before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "Now, it's time for your medicine, Wolfram."

"Does it taste bad?" Yuuri ignored the childish question, and walked toward the bed with the bowl. Situating himself on the bed behind Wolfram, he leaned the slightly smaller boy against his chest. When he held the bowl to pale lips, its contents were tentatively tasted. "It's…not too bad." Once the initial tasting was done, Yuuri watched as Wolfram grasped the bowl and drank the rest of it down.

It was only two minutes before Wolfram was soundly asleep, the medicine having made him instantly drowsy. Whatever was in that teapot must be pretty potent. Yuuri was suddenly glad that he hadn't offered to taste the stuff first as his mother used to. Not wanting to disturb the boy's much-needed sleep, Yuuri carefully slid out from behind Wolfram and gently lay him down. He looked so peaceful just sleeping like he was…

* * *

Wolfram opened his eyes, feeling somewhat like his head was stuffed with cotton balls. Every sound—from his own heartbeat to the light snoring coming from his left—was muffled. He looked to see Yuuri sitting in a chair near the bed, his sleeves rolled up, hair mussed, and his chin resting on his hand, asleep. Smiling slightly, Wolfram pushed his aching body into a seated position, and the blankets fell down from his chest. He shivered, suddenly cold.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was not well. No, he was definitely sick. That part was not very encouraging. It had been ten years since he was ill. Not since he was seventy-two had he even had a cold, and there was now some kind of bug floating around his system that sent him into a fever. He was still pretty sure that his temperature was above normal, though it was not as high as it had been. Wolfram could not remember anything after Yuuri told him that he was only letting him sleep in his bed because he was sick. Well, there was the vague recollection of his crying, but he didn't want to think about that. 

He didn't like the thought of crying because of Yuuri. There had been too much of that during the months his fiancé had been gone. That loneliness had been unbearable, like something had been ripped out of his chest, only to leave a gaping hole that would never heal. His eyes closed, a lingering doubt inching to the front of his mind. Did Yuuri really want to be here? Did he really want to be with Wolfram? He supposed that he could have his mother try to hurry things along toward the wedding, but for some reason, that seemed wrong to him. Sure, he led the idiot around by the nose most of the time…but with this one thing, it would need to be Yuuri's decision. And if he _didn't_ want it...Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he shoved that horrid idea to the back of his mind, contented to recline against the mound of pillows behind him and watch Yuuri sleeping.

"You look like hell, you wimp," he muttered, but it didn't have any venom behind it.

* * *

Günter peered through the crack in the door, finding an interesting sight. Wolfram was sleepily gazing at His Majesty, who snoozed in a nearby chair. The emotions that lay bare on the young lord's face were enough to make his heart give a little flutter. Young love was always so beautiful! He knocked lightly at the door before entering, replacing the current tray with a fresh one, and a teapot full of hot water. "How are you feeling, Wolfram?"

"A little better." The young man's voice was low, and quiet so that he would not wake Yuuri, who appeared to have been asleep where he was for some time now. Günter prepared another dose of medicine for Wolfram and handed it to the boy, who looked rather content, if still a bit pale. "Thank you. Günter?" 

One fine purple eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. "Yes?"

Wolfram set down the bowl he had been sipping from and fixed his eyes on his fiancé. "Can you put him in the bed? He's going to be sore if he keeps sleeping like that." With a smile, the advisor obliged, cradling the young king to his chest while he transferred him to the softness of the bed. With one more statement of thanks, Wolfram shooed him from the room, promising that he would drink his medicine.

* * *

It was warm when Yuuri woke. Too warm. Well, too warm for sleeping in the chair. In fact, he realized at the same time that he was actually lying down, and on something infinitely softer than the chair that had made his legs go to sleep long before the rest of him had done. A little sigh very close to him made him open his eyes. Wolfram was curled up against him, fingers twined in his shirtfront. His face was composed in sleep, mouth slightly open, and his hair hanging over his eyes. It was so painfully adorable that Yuuri had to try very hard not to chuckle. Instead, he smoothed blonde hair away from Wolfram's face, smiling.

He looked so delicate when he slept, like a porcelain doll, but much more real. And no doll could ever have eyes like that, anyway. Yuuri watched helplessly as those eyes opened, hazy green looking up at him before closing again and that lovely face burrowed into his chest. "How are you feeling, Wolfram?"

His shirt muffled the other boy's voice, and Yuuri felt the warm breath exhaled by Wolfram's words through the wrinkled white cloth. "Much better. Sleepy..." He couldn't help stroking at Wolfram's now somewhat lank hair, smiling. This action drew a contented sigh from the sick young man, and Yuuri closed his eyes. Maybe this sickness wasn't a bad thing? Wolfram snuggled closer, his nose poking at Yuuri's chest. One of his feet grazed the young king's shin. Yuuri smiled.

"Are you feeling well enough to have a bath, Wolfram?" The hot water and steam might be good for him, and there had to be something that Yuuri could put in the water that could ease the muscle aches that always came with a cold.

The invalid mumbled, "But I'm sleepy, Yuuri…"

Now, he did chuckle. "How about when we wake up?" There was an affirmative sound, and then Yuuri settled himself again, making sure that he was comfortable. "Sleep well, Wolfram." Pajamas weren't necessary. At least Wolfram was getting better. Soon he would be back to normal, and calling him a wimp. For the first time, Yuuri didn't think he'd mind.

* * *

Gwendel sighed, and set the latest signed paper into the stack at the left side of his desk. His eyes were beginning to ache from reading these requests. And there were some that were absolutely ridiculous. One, he remembered, asked that His Majesty personally intervene between two farm families that were disputing over who would have the rights to an enchanted cow. A _cow! _"Oh, yes," he murmured aloud as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair back. "His Majesty would be amused by that…"

His hand dropped the quill it held, and came up to rub at his eyes, which were still closed. Why could they not stop hurting? His frown deepened, and he tilted his head to one side, cracking his cervical vertebrae back into place, from where the tense muscles in his neck had shifted them. It always felt so _good_ when he did that…now that he thought about it, his hand was sore, too. Too bad, he thought, that Gisela was out of the palace. She had a muscle ointment that he usually applied, but had recently run out. And her absence was probably going to be lengthy.

As he leaned his head back again, he tried to relax. Remembering a technique that he'd learned long ago, he allowed all of the muscles in his face to slacken, then those in his neck, shoulders, chest, back, all the way down to his toes. It worked wonders, pulling a bit of tension from him. But just as always happened, Gwendel's relaxation was interrupted. The door swung open smoothly, and light footsteps entered before he heard the gentle click of the door closing behind the intruder.

Günter's soft voice came, just as his footsteps advanced toward the paper-stacked desk behind which Gwendel sat. "Gwendel? Are you…awake?" It was rather amusing to think that Günter could be so easily fooled. He grunted that he was, indeed, conscious. "Then what are you doing?" Curiosity and puzzlement laced the scholar's words, and Gwendel found that he wished to open his eyes.

When he did so, he saw Günter's head tilted to one side, his face painted in inquisitiveness, and a crease had formed between his pale violet eyes. He lifted his head, feeling a bit more at ease. "I was attempting to relax, Günter. What do you need?"

Günter shrugged. "I do not _need_ anything, Gwendel. I have only come to tell you that your brother seems to be recovering quickly from his fever. You might expect to be relieved of some paperwork quite soon, I think." That was, at first glance, a good thing. However, the fact that his brother was getting better also would bring with it his shrill voice echoing through the castle, calling His Majesty any number of derogatory terms.

That was not a welcome thought. He frowned. 

Günter leaned on his desk a little. "Do you need _me_ to help you with your papers?" When he shot the tall man an acidic glare, Günter merely explained with: "I know how much you hate them. And you frown so much when you're doing paperwork…"

That last bit of Günter's reply puzzled Gwendel exceedingly. "I'm always frowning, Günter."

"Yes…" the other man said, almost as if to himself. "You really do not smile very often, Gwendel." His eyes had hazed over, as though he were remembering something. "In fact, the last time I remember a smile crossing your face was when we accidentally inhaled too much of those fumes from Anissina's potion vat." Günter's lips curled into a smile that was something bordering on evil. "How is the cat, Gwendel?"

He had the sudden urge to bite his lip. In his potion-induced giddiness, he had proclaimed that he would care for the cat they'd discovered skulking in one of the corridors. It had grown rather larger than it was then, a fully adult, very sleek tabby, which loved fish. He had named it Agatha, but most times called her Aggie. She was a great comfort when he felt lonely, but sometimes got into his knitting basket, and needed to be cut out of the yarn. Flexing his aching hand, he asked, "Aggie is fine…is there anything else, Günter?"

For a long moment, Günter looked oddly at him, then he moved around the desk. Confused when the advisor disappeared behind his chair, reappearing on his right side, Gwendel's surprise knew no bounds when he felt Günter take his hand. He was sure that a blush was developing on his face, until Günter's thumbs started kneading at the muscles of his palm. It felt so nice so suddenly that he let out a little contented sound before he could catch himself. Günter smiled gently. "You're so tense…" the lavender-eyed man mused, as if to himself. 

The advisor's fingers hit a particularly tight knot in Gwendel's wrist, and he pressed hard, working out the discomfort, causing Gwendel to groan. "That's…"

"Relax, Gwendel." Günter said quietly, "Let everything go." Let go? Let what go? Günter's hands worked further up his arm, more gently now, and he continued to murmur, "Let go…" until Gwendel's eyelids drooped, lulled by that hypnotic voice and the way one of those slender but strong hands had slid from where it had been kneading his shoulder…across his chest and up, until the other joined it, loosing his hair. "Let go of irritation," Those fingers were kneading his scalp and the base of his skull, his neck. "Let go of responsibility," His muscles began to feel like jelly in Günter's hands, and Gwendel lost the last of his reserve. "Just let go…"

His head fell back against the chair again, and he sighed, opening his eyes. Günter smiled down at him. Blinking slowly, Gwendel smiled back. He watched a light blush rise on Günter's cheeks. It was quite pretty. Far too relaxed to care about how undignified he seemed, Gwendel reached out, taking the other man's pale hand and raising it to his lips. He kissed at Günter's fingers before he nuzzled into the palm. "Thank you… Günter…"

The advisor leaned down, brushing hair from his face. "No. Do not thank me, Gwendel…it was my pleasure." His face was so close, and the movement so brief, that Gwendel was almost certain he had imagined it, but for a mere instant, he thought he felt Günter's lips brush his cheek before the man swept from the room. His smile grew until he simply could not keep it up any longer. Finally, he sighed in contentment and hauled himself from his chair. The rest of his papers could wait. For once, he would take the remainder of the day off.

Removing his coat, and leaving his hair hanging down his back, Gwendel exited the office, unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves to just about his elbows. He did not care that he looked disheveled. The corridors were deserted, and he was glad. That left him unhindered in his rambling walk around the palace. Finally, he left by way of the side door, walking through the gardens until he found a particularly thick patch of clover.

Simply too tempted, he lay in the soft grass, the coolness of it embracing him and lulling him to sleep.

* * *

Günter swallowed down a glass of water. He had run all the way here, to his room, frightening several of the servants as he passed. The image of Gwendel smiling up at him had caused some very strange thoughts to rise in his mind, and Günter did not understand them. Surely, he had felt something like this in the past for the dark-haired general…but that was when they were children! The happy child Gwendel had been turned into a standoffish, stern man, and the feelings he'd had seemed to disappear.

But…how could he explain how his face had heated, and the way his stomach gave a little jump at the feeling of Gwendel's lips on his hand? It was with his own hands shaking that he poured another glass of water, sipping this time, and gripping the container with both hands. He remembered how Gwendel had been as a small boy…so happy and full of life…until the death of his father. He then became subdued and distant. And when Conrad's father had arrived, Gwendel had spiraled downward into bitterness and near-hatred.

Günter had struggled with himself, trying at first to rationalize his feelings, telling himself that they were childhood friends. Almost brothers. After some time, he had succeeded in convincing himself of it, and also that those same feelings had faded, dying away into the mists of memory. But now…

He stood there at the table near his window for a long time, just watching the way the wind blew in the garden trees and letting them soothe his troubled mind. Then he spotted movement. The late afternoon sun shone down on a white shirt, glistened in black hair, and caressed tanned skin. Gwendel. Günter watched, transfixed, as his old friend aimlessly wandered around the gardens. Finally, he saw the man lay down in the grass, his eyes closing in sleep. 

His breath caught in his throat, and his hands lost their grip on the glass. Günter did not hear the shatter of glass, nor did he care. He was too wrapped up in pondering the fact that the world made beautiful things so difficult to obtain. Roses had thorns. Even the very birds of paradise had talons. And Gwendel…he was a thorny flower in his own right.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you like it. I've been tweaking this chapter for a while...


	4. Chapter 4: This Very Moment

**A/N: ** Good Lord, this took forever. Then, there was the need for sending it to a Beta. Thank you, Bry…for going over this last chapter. Now, lemme get started. Keep in mind, guys, that this is the last chapter. So if you look at it and say, "Man, that's long", just remember that there's no more. Hehe…

--

**Chapter 4: ** This Very Moment

The light in the room was far too bright when Wolfram's eyes opened. He winced, wishing that Yuuri had closed the drapes. The thick velvet canopy above the bed swayed slightly, and for a brief moment, he wondered why. Still blinking in the bright sunlight, Wolfram sat up, finding the bed empty of its other occupant, but well slept-in. A smile pulled at his mouth when he spied a note left on Yuuri's pillow. His hand reached out of its own volition, and plucked the crisp ivory parchment from the wrinkled linens.

_Wolfram,_

I hope you are feeling better. Please do not get out of bed until I return. When I do, we'll get you cleaned up and have a soak in the bath. Try to rest.

Love,

Yuuri

The smile that had started small turned into an outright grin as he read the final words of this short note, a strange and fluttery feeling cropping up in his stomach. Any other day, he would have thought something sarcastic, such as his relief that all of the words were spelled correctly. But at this moment, after having witnessed with his own eyes how very much his fiancé cared for him…this note seemed like an affirmation. Wolfram ran a fingertip over Yuuri's still-clumsy handwriting, feeling the words.

After piling pillows up behind him so that he could lay back in a more upright position, Wolfram stationed himself so that he could make the most of the fresh air coming in from outside, as well as the sun, to which his eyes had by now grown accustomed. The pleasant smells of flowers and the outdoors were drifting in through the window, taking his mind off of the fact that he truly did feel rather sticky. How long had it been since he had a bath?

Wolfram was not even certain how many days he had been sick. His conception of time was skewed, and he did not know how he was going to get back on track. Well, it was daylight now, at least, and he felt fine. It would be nice if he could go and have a bath all by himself, so that when Yuuri came back, he would be surprised. But he could not bring himself to disobey such a request from his fiancé. He would wait, and let Yuuri have his way. Just this once.

--

"And you're sure that this will ease his sore muscles?" Yuuri asked Günter, who had just handed him a packet of medicinal salts. His chief advisor nodded distractedly. In fact, the violet-eyed man had been so preoccupied this morning; he had not once made an attempt at being overly affectionate. While he welcomed the break from Günter's usual exuberance, he did find it strange. As Yuuri watched, he slipped into a completely unfocused state, staring out of the window and letting out a small sigh.

It reminded him oddly of the way Gwendel had been acting. Since early morning when he had risen to check on Wolfram's fever and then gone out for his morning run, he had seen the general three times. Once, he had been playing with the tabby cat that had taken a liking to him some time ago. The second instance happened to be when he'd gone to deliver a small stack of papers he'd signed. Half of them were requisitions for military equipment, and the others were various requests for the intervention of troops. Having made notes on each as to what he thought needed to be done, Yuuri felt that Gwendel was quite capable of carrying out these instructions.

When he had entered the man's office, he found Gwendel toying with his pen, one finger tracing a path over his cheek absently. Blue eyes snapped back to reality from whatever daydream they had been seeing, and Yuuri had been able to turn the papers over without incident. After that, when he'd gone to tell the cooks what he would like made for his and Wolfram's breakfast, Gwendel was asking for custard tarts topped with sugared violets.

For a moment, now, Yuuri had watched Günter. Most people thought that the young king was a little slow when it came to realizing certain things. Perhaps that had been true for a time. But that was before he had gained some insight into how these people thought and why they acted the way they did. That was why he took great satisfaction at asking in a very teasing tone, "Do you think that it might work on Gwendel's headaches?"

In a matter of seconds, several drastic changes had presented themselves in Günter's appearance. His mouth fell open, and he turned toward Yuuri with eyes that were impossibly wide. A flush of pink had begun to rise in the man's cheeks, and he stammered, "I…I don't know, Your Majesty."

With a mischievous grin, Yuuri leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. "Maybe you should make some and give it to him…as a present?" The pink in Günter's face turned scarlet and began to spread, and he tried to stammer some kind of protest. Yuuri held up a hand, silencing him. "Günter, I believe that you might find something sweet outside your door. I wonder who might have put it there?"

The way that choking sound came from the advisor's throat before he bolted for the door was highly amusing, but it was nothing to the look in Günter's eyes when he carried a tray into the room, holding it as gingerly as if it contained some fragile and treasured heirloom. Sitting in the middle of the plain mahogany wood was a small arrangement of three custard tarts, sugared violets perched delicately atop each. "Your Majesty," Günter said as he slid the tray onto the surface of the already cluttered table, his voice sounding rather far away. It seemed as if the man was going to burst into tears at any moment. Indeed, when he raised his eyes from the sweet treats, they were shining with happiness and tears.

"Are you well, Günter?" Yuuri asked, knowing that he was, but wanting to hear it all the same.

"Oh, yes," the taller man said vehemently, "it's just…I did not think that he would remember." This cryptic remark was enough to throw Yuuri for a loop. Perhaps in the past, Gwendel and Günter had been friends, and the tarts had been one of the lavender-haired man's favorites? Yuuri was suddenly crushed to the man's chest, so tightly that he barely heard it when Günter murmured that all might not be lost.

It took a lot for Yuuri not to snort. He pushed away from Günter, and said in a wry tone, "Of course it isn't." When purple eyes widened, he patted the taller man's shoulder. In a much kinder voice, he explained, "Just go and thank him for the sweets, Günter, and do not question me on this. I'm sure he would not mind the intrusion." And just like that, Günter was off like a shot, swiftly picking up the tray on his way out of the door and tossing an apology to him over one shoulder as he sprinted away down the hall. For a long moment, Yuuri was unsure if he had done the right thing. It was not that he did not think both Günter and Gwendel deserved the happiness that would ultimately result from Günter's overly enthusiastic reaction to the general's attempted anonymous gift…but it was what would occur between now and that eventual bliss.

If he knew Gwendel at all, the man would try to fend Günter off for as long as possible. In a way, it reminded him much of himself. Yuuri had many times put off the extreme violence of Wolfram's possessive nature, even though he knew full well how badly it hurt the other boy. But some time during the night, while watching his fiancé sleep, he decided that it was not worth it any more. Because the one thing that frightened him more than anything else had been seeing the absolutely frenzied look in those green eyes as they tearfully begged him not to leave. It had not been scary to know that Wolfram cared for him. He had known that for some time now.

What really frightened Yuuri into a nearly senseless state was that he cared, too. It made him want to shriek like a girl when he thought about the extent of his feelings where Wolfram was concerned. Boys his age weren't supposed to feel this way, were they? He remembered something about teenagers supposedly never being able to truly love. He recalled the way his brother had had several very short-lived relationships when he was in his teenage years. But then he thought back to that stabbing fear that had gone through him when he emerged back in his own world that day…when he had _known_ he would never see Wolfram again. It had been shoved aside as general anxiety at the time, but now…

He knew the way things were _supposed_ to work. He'd always planned to find a pretty girl, go to the same high school with her, graduate, and maybe even go to college. They would get married, settle down, and have kids. But, things never work out the way you plan for them. At that very moment, he _had _a child. Greta was somewhere playing with one of the maids, most likely. At that very moment, he _was_ settled down. He had a castle, and an entire kingdom to take care of. And at that very moment, Yuuri had a fiancé that was asleep in his bed. Was that fiancé a girl? No, but he didn't know that he cared about that so much anymore.

Hefting the packet of medicinal salt in his hand, he made his way out of Günter's room. His life seemed pretty well complete at that very moment.

--

Gwendel leaned heavily on one arm of his desk chair. He felt…anxious. It had been a very long time since he'd been this distracted. Though he had a mountain of papers to review and sign, the general could not force himself to touch them. And every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was a soft smile and he swore he could hear that gentle, yet somehow still commanding voice in his ear.

"Gwendel?" Yes, it sounded just like that…

Alarmed at how real his hallucination sounded, Gwendel looked around. It was then that he discovered that he was not actually delusional. Whether for better or worse, Günter was standing just inside his door, holding a very familiar tray. This was the very same one that Gwendel had quietly placed outside the advisor's door nearly an hour earlier. It took a great deal of self-possession to keep behind his lips the curse that threatened to escape. Had one of the maids decided to tell?

After making a mental note to deal quite swiftly with those women, Gwendel cleared his throat. "Yes, Günter?"

There were times when he wanted to toss this man out of a window. Often, he wanted to lock him into a closet until he calmed down. And yet there were still other times when he felt altogether too tempted to simply hold Günter. As he took a tentative step forward, the dark wooden tray almost trembling in a white-knuckled grip, Günter Von Kliest somehow made him want to do just that. Was it the nervous blush spreading over the man's cheeks, dusting his fair skin with a delicate rose color? Perhaps it was the way Günter's teeth bit idly at his lower lip. Or, might it be the way those purple eyes had latched onto him, not letting him go?

For whatever reason, Gwendel found himself nearly unable to keep his face studiously calm. One hand gripped the edge of his desk, the other tightened into a fist in his lap as the white-clad man advanced, coming ever nearer to where he sat. Finally, Günter's teeth loosed his lip, and he asked quietly, "Am I correct in assuming that it is you I have to thank for these?"

Unable to speak, Gwendel merely nodded.

The smile that broke over Günter's face was radiant, and in the face of such purity, such beauty, he was—for once in his life—completely powerless. "Since that is the case," Günter set the tray down atop a stack of papers, "I believe that I should thank you." Abruptly, Gwendel's heart seemed as if it were unsure whether it needed to speed up or stop altogether. He compelled his throat not to swallow, though it was as dry as a sand pit.

With a graceful flourish, Günter was standing at the left side of his chair, and Gwendel's body turned automatically to face him. Somehow, he was not gasping for breath as Günter leaned down, though it was unclear as to how he had managed such a feat. He felt every muscle in his body go rigid, as if he were tensing for a heavy blow. Something warm and soft touched his cheek, stroking lightly, and after a fraction of a second, he realized it was the pad of one of Günter's fingers. That digit slid down to his jaw and around to his chin, pulling upward.

Now, Gwendel's heart had most certainly decided to pound as if he were in the midst of a fierce battle. A bit of lavender hair tickled his right cheek, and warm breath that smelled of lemon custard drifting lazily over his skin. His mind wandered, briefly thinking of whether Günter had already tasted the tarts on the tray. Other parts of him were being equally traitorous, like his throat, which had just made a very undignified gulping noise. His hands joined the revolt, turning his chair toward Günter as well, and then the final treachery…they came up to grasp the advisor's face and pull, closing the gap between his lips and those that he could now admit he'd longed to touch.

A small, surprised sound escaped Günter's mouth before he seemed to give in and simply melt into Gwendel's lap. Their lips remained pressed against each other in that same way, though every other aspect of the embrace changed. White-clad arms encircled Gwendel's neck, pulling him close, and his eyes closed, unable to understand the strange sense of peace that unexpectedly came over him. He found it difficult to breathe after a while, and the kiss broke, leaving them both panting.

When he opened his eyes, Gwendel was surprised to find just how beautiful his companion could look. Günter had yet to open his own eyes, and dark lashes were wet with tears, while his lips were tilted upward in a smile that was nothing short of heavenly. "Thank you," Günter whispered, "Thank you, Gwendel."

Feeling a nearly uncontrollable urge to feel those lips again, but restraining it just the same, he ran a hand through pale purple hair. "Please," he heard himself say, "don't toy with me…" Oh, God, if this was all some kind of trick, or if it was truly merely a 'thank you' for the tarts, Gwendel was certain he would need to break something. He had no idea what it was he felt, but if the hot, squirming feeling in his guts was any indication, it was something important.

Günter bent to speak lowly in his ear, "I assure you, Gwendel Von Walde, I am not playing games." That voice became something that resembled a mix of innocent and devious, "Now…where were we?"

--

Yuuri smiled to himself. It was turning out to be quite a day. Not quite inexplicably, his chief domestic advisor and his chief military advisor had been closeted together since right around mid-morning. The young king was relatively certain that Gwendel and Günter were not talking about foreign policy. His smile grew to an outright grin as he remembered having to shoo the maids away from Gwendel's office. They were going to be highly disappointed that their two 'dark horse' candidates for their ruler's affections had found happiness elsewhere.

But, it made no difference. After having dealt with several issues—the least of which were his nosy servants—the Maou was now well on his way back to his room. And it was about time, too. First, he'd run into Dorcas, who was all but stumbling under the weight of three suits of armor. He'd helped him bring them to the armory for cleaning, all the while wondering where the rest of the troops were, and why they never seemed to be around when the man needed help. Once the armor was neatly stacked, Yuuri then proceeded to be harassed by several minor lords that had been staying in the guest wing of the palace, and would no longer be put off because of Wolfram's sickness.

Now, the afternoon shadows had begun to grow long and dark, and he sighed. At least he knew that Wolfram would be exactly where he left him. Turning the corner nearest his bedchamber, he made certain to straighten his jacket, and run a hand through his hair. It was the last thing he wanted for Wolfram to wake up and say that he looked a mess.

The door to his room opened smoothly, and he found Wolfram propped on a mound of pillows, lit orange by the afternoon sun. He was asleep, and yet he still seemed to glow. A silent prayer of thanks flitted across Yuuri's mind at how Wolfram's color had returned, and that there was no sweat matting his hair. Günter's concoction had worked very well, and he was glad for it. Now, all he needed to do was to have the other young man soak in the bath with the salts Günter had given him. Yuuri was certain that his fiancé would feel much better once his muscles were no longer sore.

After walking on tiptoe to the bathroom and dumping the entire packet into the small private bath, he returned to the bedroom. Yuuri closed the large French doors that led out onto the balcony, and drew the heavy drapes. He hoped that the fresh air had done Wolfram some good. When Yuuri approached the bed, he once again studied his fiancé's face. He recalled how those on the edge of death had been brought back to full health and vigor, simply from seeing Wolfram, and there was little wonder. Yuuri doubted he could ever have found a girl that was more beautiful than the boy he had stumbled upon so long ago. A smile tugged at his lips, and he moved to take the blonde boy from the bed.

The covers slid back easily, and he hooked one arm under Wolfram's knees, the other maneuvered beneath his shoulders. When he stood, Yuuri was surprised by how light his burden was. "Wolfram," he said quietly, "it's time to wake up." The face that was now resting against his chest moved, rubbing against black fabric before it turned upward to peer owlishly at Yuuri. A sleepy smile spread over Wolfram's face, and the young king returned it with equal warmth. "Did you sleep well?"

Wolfram nodded, "Yes," and snuggled into Yuuri's chest as he began walking to the bathroom. "I read the note you left."

Yuuri's heart skipped a little, and he fought to keep his voice even. "Yes?" They cleared the bathroom door, and he gently deposited Wolfram onto the edge of the bath, helping the still-sleepy blonde out of his nightgown.

Bright green eyes blinked up at him for a moment before clearing and acquiring a warmth that he had only really seen there once. "I thought it was…sweet." That sentence very nearly reduced Yuuri to a mass of goop. It was, after all, very rare for him to earn any praise from his fiancé. "I wanted to clean myself up for you," Wolfram said, wrinkling his nose at the pink garment that now lay crumpled on the floor, "but you wrote that I should not get out of bed." Nodding and making an affirmative sound, Yuuri began unbuttoning his jacket. Wolfram instantly tensed. "What are you doing?"

Smiling slightly, Yuuri's mild reply came, "I'm about to take a bath. The tub's big enough for six people, Wolfram." His fiancé began turning red in the face, and he fought to keep his smile small. Honestly, this was fun. When was the last time the Maou had his fiancé on the defensive? _Never, really_, he mused to himself, which was, of course, what made it so enjoyable.

"But—but—!" Wolfram stammered, only to be interrupted.

Yuuri shook a finger at the still-seated young man, saying in a chiding voice, "Now, now. I can't just let you bathe yourself. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let my fiancé take care of himself when he's just gotten over being ill?" The dumbfounded look that fell across the other boy's face was worth the trouble, but Yuuri had to restrain his laughter when he leaned down, his face close to Wolfram's, to say, "If you're very nice, I'll scrub your back." Green eyes grew impossibly wide, and now Yuuri did laugh.

"You—you're teasing me!" Wolfram's blush deepened, the pink dusting his cheeks turning to a very becoming shade of crimson.

Straightening and gently draping his jacket over the stand in one corner, Yuuri said in his most innocent tone, his back to Wolfram, "What makes you think that?" He could hear growling as Wolfram cursed under his breath, but Yuuri simply continued to undress. His shirt ended up in the laundry basket along with the slacks he had on, and finally, when he was fully disrobed, he walked right past a stammering Wolfram to sink into the bath.

--

Five minutes of arguing and blushing later, Wolfram was seated on the opposite side of the bath, completely ignoring Yuuri's presence, or at least attempting to do so. _How dare he…_what in the name of Shinou was that wimp up to now? If he weren't _completely_ certain that Yuuri would do no such thing, he might think that the situation had been orchestrated so that he'd have the opportunity to take advantage of Wolfram in his…natural state. But that was impossible. Shibuya Yuuri was not the type to do anything of the sort. As much as Wolfram would hate to admit it, his fiancé was a perfect gentleman, with whose conduct he could find no fault.

Yes, there were times when he thought that Yuuri was too friendly with others, but he had recently come to realize that it was simply not in Yuuri's nature to be mean, or even aloof. He took comfort in the knowledge that his fiancé was a wimp, and would never actually think about being unfaithful. Said wimp proceeded to force him to allow the threatened back scrubbing, and then to further the embarrassing treatment, insisted upon drying him off, too.

Now seated on the edge of Yuuri's freshly made bed, Wolfram toyed with the end of the cord that held closed the fluffy blue bathrobe he'd been wrapped in. Yuuri was at the door in a similar garment, speaking in low tones to one of the maids. He watched silently as the dark-haired boy bustled around the room, gathering his clothes and running a comb through his hair. For a moment, he allowed himself to just relax. Was this what the rest of their lives would be like? Sharing such simple, domestic moments…it brought a smile to his face.

Halfway through shrugging into his jacket, Yuuri paused, looking at him with a strange, curious expression. "What are you smiling about, Wolfram?" Not wanting to ruin the moment, he simply turned away, pretending to be annoyed. As he did so, however, the smile drew wide across his face. Cloth rustled, and a moment later, Yuuri went into the bathroom to get his shoes. A knock came at the door, and Yuuri called, "Can you get the door, please?"

Wolfram slid off of the bed and padded across the plush carpets to the door, opening the large portal. A short, freckled young maid stood there, holding a fresh uniform and a pair of boots. "His Majesty has asked that we bring you your clothes, young master." He took them and thanked the girl, who then asked, "Are you feeling better, sir? His Highness was very worried…" her voice lowered to a whisper, obviously knowing that if Yuuri heard her, she could be in trouble, "…he was frantic, until he got your medicine." The girl smiled a little before she said before leaving, "You are a very lucky man to have him, sir."

When the lock on the door caught as he closed it behind him, he thought about that statement, and he wanted to slap himself. He'd just caught his mouth stretching into an entirely too idiotic grin. Yuuri presently emerged from the bathroom, hopping on one foot while tying his shoe, and Wolfram watched his every move. He walked the same way he always had; but the blonde's eyes caught the purpose in each step now. His gaze found the simple, efficient grace in each movement, and damn him, but he was grinning again. He barely had time to slip back into his usual smirk before Yuuri turned around, fixing his formal blue wrap around his shoulders.

Just then, the bell tolled for dinner. "Are you hungry, Wolfram?" Though he would have denied it, his stomach chose that moment to growl, and Yuuri smiled. "Get dressed, then. Dinner's served." Oddly enough, Wolfram found himself moving to obey. What was even stranger was that he didn't care that he was. Even as he pushed his arms through sleeves, stepped into his trousers, and tied his ascot, Wolfram wondered why things felt so different. Was that odd, warm feeling _supposed_ to be there in his chest?

Answers to all of the questions swarming around his mind would have to wait, since Yuuri had already gently taken him by the arm, leading the way to the main dining hall. Servants hurried past, and when they were in clusters of two or more, they whispered amongst them, the women giggling. What were they on about? He had walked with Yuuri down the halls a hundred times. Tonight was no different. Or…maybe it was? Did that wimpy Maou have something up his sleeve? Slowly, Wolfram began to tense, waiting for some kind of cosmic joke to come to fruition.

He would undoubtedly become the butt of any such joke, as was always the case. But that thought was put out of his mind when they came to the large room at the end of the hall. Here was such a strange sight that Wolfram's feet stopped, and refused to move an inch further.

Across the table from where he and Yuuri would be seated, Wolfram saw his eldest brother trying to fend off Günter, who was attempting to feed him a bite of some kind of dessert. He was not trying very hard, however, and after a moment allowed the lavender-haired man to slip the fork past his lips. When Gwendel was through consuming the treat, Günter bent to place a chaste kiss on the general's cheek, causing Gwendel to color slightly.

Suddenly feeling a tug on his sleeve, Wolfram whipped his head to the left, only to find Yuuri gazing at him with concern in those deep black eyes. "Are you well, Wolfram?"

"Y-Yes, I'm fine." He said quietly, and in an even lower tone, "But you're going to explain that—" Wolfram pointed to the disgustingly sweet sight across the room, "—as soon as we're alone." Yuuri smiled amusedly, but agreed, leading Wolfram to his accustomed seat. Before he could do so himself, Yuuri pulled out his chair for him. Confused, but also secretly pleased at this gentlemanly behavior, the blonde boy seated himself.

Dinner proceeded as normal for the next fifteen minutes, only with the absence of the former Maou. But then, Yuuri put down his spork, and picked up the plate that his napkin-ring had been sitting on, and slowly stood. Wolfram's breath caught. _He wouldn't—_

That thought did not have time to finish itself. Green eyes watched in morbid fascination as the porcelain fell to the floor, crashing into a hundred tiny fragments directly in front of him. Jaws dropped all around the table, and over the hammering of Wolfram's heart, he could vaguely hear Günter beginning to make exclamations that became increasingly desperate. Tears began welling up in his eyes as he stood, turning to face Yuuri. All he could do was whisper in an unsteady voice, "Why?"

The breaking of plate was a symbol, similar to the throwing and retrieval of cutlery, only rather than the acceptance of a duel, this symbolized the breaking of their engagement. Yuuri did not look angry. On the contrary, the Maou had a fierce look of joy in his eyes. Was he _that_ happy to be rid of Wolfram? Each thought that now passed through his mind was darker than the last, and he was on point of fleeing the room when he felt something impact the left side of his face.

Wolfram's hand instantly flew to the still-stinging cheek, his green eyes widening impossibly until what had just occurred truly sunk in. Yuuri stood there, patiently waiting, and it was all Wolfram could do to keep himself from simply throwing his arms around the other's neck and squeezing him. Voice shaking almost as badly as the rest of him, he said, "I accept." The smile those two little words earned was instantly burned into Wolfram's mind, his alone to keep forever. That is not to say that Yuuri would end up unscathed for nearly causing Wolfram to have a heart attack…no, revenge would be his…in time.

--

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, birds flew this way and that, and there was even a gentle breeze causing the flowers and trees to sway. Yuuri sat on the crest of the hill, overlooking the now-complete baseball field. They had taken a few hours to simply walk around the area surrounding the castle, just the two of them. Wolfram, as usual, took advantage of the peaceful scenery and lay down nearby, promptly falling asleep. Yuuri chuckled when he glanced to his left, watching how the breeze blew at tousled blonde hair. His fiancé had a strange talent for being able to sleep just about anywhere.

With eyes closed, one arm draped over his middle, and the other bent near his head, Wolfram had slept precisely the way he'd fallen to the ground. In a way, Yuuri envied him. There was little chance of _him_ being able to sleep so well. But there was another side of him that simply loved watching Wolfram sleep. He had found that on nights he was unable to do so himself, one of the most enjoyable ways to pass the time was to simply turn over, and stare at the way the moon lit fair skin, making Wolfram seem to glow.

Yuuri felt the sudden mad urge to wake Wolfram, but not in a way that one might think. He scooted closer, trying not to make much noise. After a moment, when he was sure that the other boy was still asleep, he leaned down, intent on kissing Wolfram's cheek. But when his lips touched skin, it was not that of a cheek, but of Wolfram's lips. Yuuri would have pulled away immediately, had he not realized that he was now looking into two very wakeful green eyes, and being held firmly in place by two curiously strong hands on his shoulders.

Wolfram's lips were warm and soft, and felt rather nice against his, so Yuuri was not about to complain. He merely continued to press his mouth gently against his fiancé's, the kiss remaining simple and chaste until Wolfram chose to break it. "I thought you were asleep," Yuuri said softly when he pulled back.

"How can I sleep with you looking at me like that?" Came the irritated—yet somehow fond—retort. Yuuri began to apologize, but Wolfram hushed him, fingers absently moving to trail through the black hair at the back of his head. "I didn't say it bothered me, Yuuri," the blonde smiled for a moment before sitting up and kissing Yuuri's cheek. The young king started, eyes wide. Wolfram smiled broadly. "You really are adorable, you know that?"

"I am not." Yuuri began to frown

"You are so." Wolfram's smile turned sly.

"Am not." Yuuri's frown became a grimace.

"Are." Wolfram began chuckling.

"Not!" Yuuri yelled, tackling his fiancé to the ground and landing squarely on top of him. "I am not adorable. Little kids are adorable." When Wolfram continued to laugh, he started turning red. Why did this always have to happen? They were having a nice, quiet moment, during which no insults were used, and then wham! Wolfram had to call him that…that word! "Can't you say that I'm handsome…or something more manly?"

Wolfram stopped laughing suddenly, his eyes fixing on Yuuri's mouth. With a smile that looked oh-so-devious, Wolfram propped himself up on his elbows, pressing his face close to where Yuuri's hovered over his, and whispered, "I'll call you whatever you want if you kiss me again." For only an instant, Yuuri felt a stab of shock attack his guts. The scandalized feeling lessened significantly, however, in short order, and he allowed himself to indulge his fiancé.

This kiss was different, more lingering and purposeful, and Yuuri heard a small sound from Wolfram's throat. It was something like a whimper, but he couldn't be sure. Finally, he pulled away, and opened his eyes—though he could not remember closing them—to see Wolfram staring back at him. As was always the case, Yuuri was helpless under that intense green stare. He was paralyzed until those eyes closed, but he took the opportunity to put his arms around his fiancé, holding him. "I love you," he heard Wolfram whisper, and he held tighter to Yuuri, who was stiff as a board with shock once again.

Once he got over the initial period of dizziness that resulted from those words being spoken, Yuuri returned the sentiment. "I love you too, Wolfram."

--

End.

--

**A/N: ** So there you have it. Happy ending, and no one got beaten to a pulp—fluffy or otherwise. Hehe. Thanks to those of you who've reviewed. I love you all!


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